How quickly we become complacent and forget to look around in awe. It´s no longer exactly novel here, but it sure as hell isn´t normal. Routines have emerged, a structure to the day. Not easy, but pleasing.

Ollo coffee every morning: sweet, spicy, an aromatic. Yogurt samples. An entire wall of yogurt. Alto instead of Stop. Hola, buenas, gracias. No pickles. No yelling. No one raises a voice to children. Loose dogs aren't lost. They cross the street, they look izquierda and derecho. I ask the horse-drawn carriage man for directions to DHL. I wave to the hammock seller, the old one I pass daily, on the Paseo de Montejo.

Many things are not radically different, a discernible difference, cool and unusual at first, becomes familiar. We recognize their shapes and flavors. The brain adjusts, rearanges itself, its chemical perceptors or whatever, to expect the slightly sweeter coca cola. The mind remembers better. Longing, nostalgia, remembrances, these are a creation of the mind, whereas the brain lives well, functions in the present.

I want to appreciate the quality of life here. The unique passage of time in the Yucatan, the integration of music. Tunes on the bus. People offer help when you look lost, when you look like a spun and sweaty gringo going a little mad in the heat. How tall I am. Everything is relative. But chicken is definitely, definitively tastier here.

In a week we´ll be in California. I wonder what I´ll miss.

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Posted by Jillian at 02:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In Spanish class today I met a girl named Karen. She is a Canadian law student. She gave me a ride home from the library. In the future she may be referred to as ¨my new friend Karen¨.

Yesterday, while having photos made at Wal Mart for new status cards, I ran into Karita, our Canadian realtor. She just bought a place in town and invited us to the housewarming party.

This is Alan Thicke. He was the star of the popular situation comedy Growing Pains and the host of the failed talkshow Thicke of the Night. Quick Thicke Fact: he composed the theme song for The Facts of Life. Also Canadian.

I will continue to research this phenomenon and keep you all apprised of my findings.

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Posted by Jillian at 05:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The menu was displayed artfully on the sidewalk table, the Modelos positioned in so coy a manner, we knew the time was ripe for our first taste of comida china. Desperate for dumplings, despite reason and empirical evidence, we decided to commit, and allowed an old Mexican to seat us in a sticky red booth. The sign above us proudly announced, "La alma de china en el corazon de Merida." If the soul of China is tinned beef in a viscous salty brown sauce without any discernable flavor, then there is some truth in their advertising. Having never been to China, I am not in any position to say one way or another.

Regret set in almost immediately. However, heartened by the presence of other patrons: a group of lunching women, a family, including a little girl who kept turning around to gawk at us, and a rather obese fellow taking good advantage of the buffet, we locked eyes, much as Neil Armstrong and that other dude must have before they landed on the Moon...and the journey of a thousand miles began with one small step for mankind...or something.

I ordered a Michelada: lime, salt, Worcestshire, soy sauce, Tabasco, pepper, and beer. Malcolm a Corona, normal.

Practically giddy we perused the (English) menu and decided on wontons, beef in Hindoo sauce (sic) and sweet and sour chicken. Our hopes soared. Until the waitress returned to inform me that they could only offer "Cheldada" basically beer, lemon and salt. Cool, fine. Then, to our increasing dismay, each menu item I named was met with a "no mas" or "hoy no tengo" and a nod to the steam tables. Apparently, they were out of chicken altogether, which we found surprising. Espcecially having just walked through alive chicken alley in the mercado. But maybe they have a different poultry vendor. I don't know. She indicates a mixed meat and vegetable platter which I accept. We select Shanghai rolls in lieu of wontons, and on the last count we are in luck: curried beef is in the house!

We sip and sit and congratulate ourselves. And then the spring rolls arrived, looking flaccid. I ate with ardor, because when starving from a day at the zoo and on the bus and in the mercado I am capable of eating old cabbage stuffed inside a battered tube and fry-boiled. Which, as you might have guessed, is exactly what we got.

Imagine a meal made as a collaboration between Pancho Villa and Chairman Mao; this was Malcolm's curry beef. It was straight revolution-issue meat with green peppers in a thickening yellow slurry. My sizzling dish was precariously placed before me with scarily unsteady hands, but did prove to be, if not delicious, at least edible, well, I ate it. When I found some bit like a fungal finger in my brown rice, I knew it was time for la cuenta.

We laughed throughout lunch, happy in our half-conscious error, unable to be discouraged that one meal in 80,000, was less than successful. Of course if anyone in Cobble Hill is reading this, immediately phone Peking 2 on Court Street and have them deliver dumplings to the Suites del Sol, # 405 Calle 58, Merida, Mexico, STAT. Thank you. Afterward, too full of Monosodium glutamate for higher cognitive functions, I lapsed into a sort of a spasm.

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Posted by Jillian at 06:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I purchased BOMBA Yellow Energy at a local OXXO store last weekend, and it has been chilling in my refrigerator ever since. When you are gulping an energy drink, it simply must be ice cold, and with our refrigerator acting the way it is, I thought it could use a couple of days. BOMBA jumped off the shelf at me last week with raw military force...this is an energy drink that demands consumption. And while I never really consider myself THAT much in need of energy, BOMBA is hard to resist.

Notice, if you will, the glass grenade-shaped bottle. The "pin" at the top makes for easy opening, and when you rip that pin out, you really do feel like you're going to be doing something intense and exciting. That starts to fade when you realize all you're really doing is "having a beverage," but it is exhilarating at first.

Unfortunately, once you get past the amazing packaging, you are left with a pretty typical energy drink. If "Red Bull" is the gold standard, and "RockStar Energy" is the brown standard, then BOMBA rates a solid bronze. It has that weird, undefined flavor that we as a culture knew nothing about until these things became popular sometime at the end of the 1990s. It's that weird, chemically mix of taurine and high amounts of caffeine, mixed in an overly carbonated syrup that tastes like it might be made from the petals of an ancient flower.

Effects-wise, the taurine does its usual job of making you feel like a bull in heat on an August day, while the 50 milligrams of caffeine (about the same as a cup of coffee) in each bottle of BOMBA make you feel a little jittery, especially when you drink one after you've already had four cups of coffee, as I have this morning. This means that a panicky, jittery feeling is sure to be arriving shortly, at which point I will likely have to go lay down, breathe into a paper bag, and convince myself I'm not going insane. Okay, if BOMBA were really as exciting as all that, I would probably be more likely to drink more of it. For now, I am going to have to say, "BOMBA: Fun to look at, not delicious to drink." I'm not throwing my coffee pot away just yet.

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Posted by Malcolm at 01:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Though Jillian had already visited the zoo here in Merida on one of her epic solo day trips, it was clear I simply had to see it for myself. After a long walk in the midday heat, staying well hydrated of course, we arrived to find not just a zoo but a real carnival of pleasures. An entire park, ringed with sno-cone and churro vendors, and filled with go-cart rides, bumper boats, motorized tricycles for rent, and hundreds of kids gleefully zipping around mildly-themed tracks. Jillian said that it was quite a departure from when she went by herself on a weekday, in that there were actually people here. I was a little jealous to have missed it feeling like an abandoned spooky park, but was also delighted to see that this free park was attracting so many families on a Saturday afternoon.

We arrive, sweaty but ready.

After getting our fill of the outer park, with its odd sculptures, and too-low cablecars, we ventured into the zoo itself. A few fast facts about the zoo:

1. It is free.
2. Its only employees are two heavily armed guards, which means that at some point, some time ago, someone woke up in the morning and said, "Yep. Today, I steal a puma."
3. There are TONS of animals, though, in the September heat, all they really do is lay around in the shade.
4. Danger is waiting AROUND EVERY TURN

DANGER!

We started with some basic barnyard animals, who were some of the most animated of any of the animals here. Jillian explained to me why she feels horns to be kind of hateful, though I like them. My skelton extending through my skin, which I can use to RAM? Hell yes!

Chain link fence is all that protects us.

One of the great things about the zoo, is how CLOSE you can get to all the animals, with no patrolling guards with tranquilizer guns to protect you, or to tell the shouting babies not to jab the tigers with sticks. To be in this zoo is to kind of feel a little bit on your own. While safe, it is still kind of exciting. All of the animals, though, are clearly depressed. The hippos are all sunk, the alligators rest, and the giraffes look downright suicidal.

DANGER!

The tigers were the best part. They were all pacing their cages, eyeballing each other and looking ready to pounce. I could stand and watch big cats pretty much all day.

I was a foot away from this guys giant sleeping head.

After being disappointed by Primate Avenue (a long, elevated, winding stretch of pathway which featured no primates), there was some excitement at the gorilla cage as a group of squealing teenagers ran by. The gorilla became quite agitated, jumping up and down and patrolling the perimiter of his cage. Then, though, it was back to bananas and snooze time.

DANGER!

On the whole, the experience got me kind of bummed out about the very concept of zoos. I'm pretty sure that while I enjoy seeing these animals up close, and the loosely regulated Mexican zoo makes that all the more possible, these animals shouldn't have to stand around in the heat in these tiny cages. There should at least be some kind of rotation law...you can exhibit an animal for a year, then you have to cut him loose and get a new one. Perhaps they could be released in a downtown urban area. While I learned that zoos kind of bum me out, visiting the free Merida zoo is still a recommended way to pass a Saturday afternoon.

The king of the rodents! Also a smug sunuvabitch.

Following the zoo, we took a bus back to Centro, where we took a stroll through the bustling Saturday mercado...which is going to have to be an entry all its own when we can get some pictures, so thoroughly was my mind blown. On the whole, I found myself really enjoying every detail of yesterday...the being, the doing, the new, the people, the buses, the smells, the sights. It all seems so unreal, and at the same time, very much right.

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Posted by Malcolm at 12:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

There are times when all a person needs is a swimming pool, a king-sized bed, and the WB to feel completely restored. The technomads like to call that Wednesday. A hotel mini break to sooth the troubled soul. Malcolm made the reservation, I packed a bag, and up the Paseo we walked. All the way to the Fiesta Americana.

It is a truly grand hotel, with a stained glass ceiling, a (great) glass elevator, lovely shops, a very expat bar with terrace, and commodious rooms. Ours looked out (with tiny balcony) over the Avenue Colon and onto the pool deck at the Hyatt. We immediately changed into our suits, but not before Malcolm noted the dimensions of the television.

We had read that their pool is inferior to the Hyatt´s, and this is so: no outdoor shower and swim up bar, but it hardly matters. There were a few too many children splashing around (they are practically revered here) but a warm breeze settled over us and we swam and read and reclined until nearly 7 o'clock. Delicious!

I would be remiss if I didn´t mention that one smallish reason we answered the Fiesta´s Siren Song was to view the first episode of America´s Next Top Model. Call us slaves to vapid media if you like, but you know you love Tyra´s pregnant pauses and fierce wigs as much as we do. Well, it didn´t seem to be airing, and Malcolm starting sulking, so we did the only thing we could in a time of such imminent disaster: we hit the bar.

La Hache is a great hotel bar. It makes you feel mysterious. But not too mysterious for free snacks! fried mozarella, Filadelphia puffs, and peanuts were all an armslength away, just where I like them. Two little drinkies and an unhealthy quantity of cheese later we went back to the room for a happy reuinion with T.V. and giant pillows.

I took a bath, a much missed luxury. We watched the MTV Awards Show for emo dandy bitches who would rather cry than rock - a disapointing demonstration of how pop culture is failing to embrace anything cool, especially when they cut away from The Raconteurs to show the pig face and stretched dwarf body of Pink. N.B.: uncertain why I am so suddenly intense. Anyway, it was all very silly and cozy and easy and fun.

Which is exactly why we did it. It may seem decadent, and to be sure it is, but we woke up feeling ravenous for a brunch buffet (superior boletos de queso, worse juice, and odd litle sandwiches of ham and cheese in a sweet pastry crust) and ready for one last dip in the pool. We stayed until checkout and walked the two blocks home feeling completely satisfied that we had spent every second at The Fiesta America having the best possible time.

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Posted by Jillian at 06:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I´d like to proffer the theory that thirty-three days in a foreign country is the exact incubation period for a tiny case of homesickness. If I am a little lonely for some familiar things, it is a sweet sadness, merely, a diversion from the heat, the incessant spanish-speaking, and the formidable task at hand. I always experience a little ennui in the autumn: memory mixing with desire, etc., for me happens sometime in September. And that´s another thing, so far there is no seasonal change. I am sweaty and wearing sandals, just as I have been since Memorial Day at the end of May. How does one make sense of the year? When do you buy new shoes? Will I ever have the pleasure of a knit scarf? I know there is a tropical cycle and a change in weather, but what to make of this sustained summer? Fall is the season in fabled New England, it reminds me to think of my favorite things. This is what I miss right now:

1. The chance of seeing someone you love in the neighborhood.
2. Breakfast with old friends. Cooking, really, any meal, all together.
3: My brother, the legend, my cat, Ed. His good, symmetrical face.
4. My bed. a bed that is mine. with a white down comforter.
5. Modern pizza and Blessings dumplings.
6. Wood burning stove smell, apple orchards, gourds and yellow leaves.
7. The beach at home, rocky, picturesque, my best friend, unextractable from it all.

so much more. but only in a delicious, Edith Piaf on a Sunday afternoon kind of way.

102 degress this Friday! I am hitting the pool at the Hyatt for sure!

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Posted by Jillian at 03:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

First, my sincere apologies for letting "New Food Monday" fall on a Tuesday. (We still need a catchier name for this feature, by the way. Please put any suggestions in the comments.) I had my new Mexican food item ready all weekend...however, I made the mistake of eating one on a Saturday, and two days didn't prove enough recovery time before I could face another package. But today is a new day, and with a belly full of SPONCH! and my heart beating irregularly, I am ready to tackle today's entry.

SPONCH!'s package plainly states that it is "La galleta con mucho PONCH!" and you had better believe that is not an exaggeration. This unholy amalgamation of sweetness practically leaps out at you off the supermarket shelf, SPONCH!ing you in the face and demanding you give them a try. Picture, if you will, four miniature Hostess Snowballs (marshmallow covered in coconut). Two are strawberry flavored, and two are plain flavored. Lay the whole thing on a butter cookie, and then, for good measure, squirt some strawberry jam in the center. Wow, even in just typing that, I realized I had described my dream cookie. However, there are some downsides.

One of the most surprising things that happens when you bust open a new box of SPONCH! is you notice five individually wrapped packages. And each one of these packages contains SIX COOKIES. Now, six is a great number when you're eating, say Oreos. Or the thin mints someone forced you to buy at the office. Six is not, however, a good number of SPONCH! to eat in one sitting. Don't get me wrong...I love marshmallow as much as the next guy, though not apparently as much as Mexicans. I swear, there are entire aisles in the markets here devoted to flavored marshmallows and marshmallow byproducts. On your first SPONCH!, you think to yourself, "The food scientists who created this are absolute geniuses." On SPONCH! number three, you're thinking, "You know what? These could be a little bit less sweet." SPONCH! number five is hard to face, and by the time you've polished off your sixth, you never want to taste food in your mouth or feel it going down your throat ever again. So my first complaint is a good problem to have...there are simply too many SPONCH!ies in a pack. A three-pack would be the right way to go on this.

Second, with all the jubilant, celebrating marshmallows dancing in their coconut crusts, little attention was given to the cookie's core component. The cookie itself is rather flavorless, and somewhat frustratingly flaky. It doesn't add a lot to the experience, other than providing a base for the party going on above it. This is also not a huge complaint, in the same way you don't complain when the apartment full of hot sorority sisters who just moved in downstairs and spend all of their time giggling and having sexy drunken pillowfights, don't know a lot about Keats. In fact, that's what this cookie is. It is a sexy drunken pillowfight, where you accidentally get punched in the stomach at the end. SPONCH!

Overall, SPONCH! makes for a delicious, albeit overwhelming snack. The best news of all is in the fine print along the bottom of the package. It is here we learn a shocking fact. SPONCH! is fortified with vitamins and minerals. This makes SPONCH! my new favorite health food. Time for another package!

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Posted by Malcolm at 03:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Myth #1: We are having a steel drum band play only Genesis songs at our reception.
TRUE! You guys are gonna rock your faces off to Hasta Yo Rasta’s version of Su-Su-Sussudio.

Myth #2: The marriage won’t be legal because Jillian is still “technically” married to an Indonesian businessman.
FALSE! Jillian and Ahkong were never really married, as Javanese law states that a marriage must be consummated with the birth of a son. Phew!

Myth #3: Rather than Jillian taking Malcolm’s name or hyphenating her maiden name, or whatever they will both adopt the name John Wilkes Booth.
TRUE! 1) It’s 3 words instead of just 1; 2) It is a name people recognize, and it commands respect; and 3) Malcolm thinks, coincidentally, this is the name of the guy who invented cereal. And that’s something we both support.

Myth #4: In lieu of exchanging rings, we are going to be tattooed with the words Best and Friends in script on our respective left ankles.
FALSE! That is cheesy! But we are going to slash open our palms and press hands together, effectively becoming blood brothers.

Myth #5: The officiate is going to be Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the USS Enterprise.
FALSE! UNFORTUNATELY!!!

Myth #6: Malcolm is a manatee.
WELL… yes and no. Funny story, see about a year before Malcolm was born his parents moved to the Florida Keys. And this was right after the government declared manatees an endangered species…yadda, yadda, yadda…you get the idea. Let me just say, Malcolm’s in a good place with it now; he has it pretty well managed. And we have agreed to not raise the kids manatee.

Myth #7: You are invited.
FALSE! You are all dummies. And we only want celebrities at our wedding. And, like monarchs. Yeah.

Myth #8: We are, in fact, getting married.
TRUE! Get excited, ‘cause we are.

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Posted by Jillian at 06:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

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Posted by Jillian at 03:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Mexico celebrates her Independence - today, September 15. Nearly 200 years of staving off imperialists and preserving tradition!

Fiesta is in the air, adding a primary plastic layer to the tropical impasto.

Yesterday I happened upon a parade along the Paseo de Montejo: costumed men, women, and children riding horses, waving, faces running in the 45 degree solar glare of late afternoon.

Tonight at 9 o'clock the governor will ring his bell from a balcony above the zocalo. There will be fireworks and drinking, music, dancing, a profuse display of youth, age, exhuberance, pride, and pleasure.

It is also a small celebration for us personally, as we have been here for exactly one month.

It isn´t difficult to become infatuated with the cobbled streets, vivid squares, horse-drawn carriages festooned with flowers, churches built by pyramid power, literally, from the ruins of T'Ho. The rose women. The peanut men. The ancient brown babies laden with textile goods in the usual patterns. The profusion of Volkswagen beetles...

We're trying to tread lightly, ingratiate ourselves, become friends, fiesta. Fiesta is a verb. Like God, Yule Brynner, and me.

And, as if for emphasis, as I sit in Independence Square, watching the people prepare for a party, I am engaged in conversation about the heat, the city, my origins and plans for the evening. Do I know about the party? Can we talk in Spanish, his second language, hailing from a Maya pueblo near Uxmel, almost in Campeche. We actually have a chat, more or less in Spanish, and I think we both feel pleased.

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Posted by Jillian at 05:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

CNN is reporting today that Duane "Dog" Chapman, national treasure and Bounty Hunter extraordinaire, is sitting in a federal prison in Honolulu following his arrest on bail jumping charges. Back in 2003, Dog tracked one million dollar bond jumper all the way to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, where he finally made the grab. The minor detail? Bounty hunting is illegal in Mexico, and Tim, Leland, and Dog were charged in a Mexican court with three counts of unlawful detention and deprivation of freedom, charges which carry sentences of up to four years in prison. Rather than await trial, the team hotfooted it back to Hawaii.

Chapman's son, Leland, also was arrested Thursday, as was colleague Tim Chapman, who is unrelated but considered a "blood brother" by Dog, according to the reality show's Web site. Marshals knocked on the door of Chapman's home just after 6 a.m., and they entered the home after the unlatched door came open, said Deputy U.S. Marshal Jay Bieber.

Chapman was cooperative, Bieber said. He was handcuffed and placed in the back of a government vehicle. Chapman's wife, Beth, told MSNBC her husband was being held in a federal detention center in Honolulu.

You can also check out CNN's video, linked here. The real victim in all of this is Beth. Look how upset she looks. Heck, even her personal trainer is beside herself with grief. Folks, this is worse than my worst nightmare. No single man has done more for justice than the Dog, the big bad Dog. No one man has been willing to accept the challenge to clean up the mean streets of Hawaii, no single figure bold enough to stand strong and proclaim, "No ice in paradise." These sick, perverted charges will not, can not stand. Dog is a national hero. Free Dog!

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Posted by Malcolm at 01:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I say hello. To our new friend, minor planet # 134340, the "planet" formerly known as Pluto. Shake it off, man. That moniker was no good for you anyway, inciting feelings of inferiority and a totally unfounded association with a Disney dog. Before you were the smallest of nine. Dude, there were moons larger that you. Now, you're huge. You know, relatively. And in my heart. Thank you # 134340. You are a perfect solar body, just the way you are.

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Posted by Jillian at 10:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I cannot operate this damn Mexican keyboard with as much facility as I do an American one (and that certainly is not much), so you are just going to have to live without your beloved contractions. and nothing is possesive. it is practically a buddhist philosophy. a Boddisatva in a hammock sipping a Sloe gin Fizz. Again, MuY apoologies, I have been reading a Tom Robbins novel, and not a particulary good one, even if you like that sort of thing.

I can do this, though:

Te leo la novela.
¿Cuando me la lees?
Te la leo el domingo.

Go ahead, correct me. I dare you. I know there should be an accent on the a in Cuando but I simply cannot find it; nor can I find the quotation marks that I know are omitted earlier in this sentence. so fuck it. so be it.

I have had two Spanish lessons and I feel spiffy. Our little class is held (and I mean little - just me and two old smoking broads, one of whom is the librarian and the other, my new friend, whose name I do not know but who gave me limonade and took me to her house in Centro though not in that order, and also reads tarot) on the patio beyond/behind the library. The teacher has a name and it is Raffi. Raffi gets it. I am an excellent student. God, I friggin love school. It has not made my transactions at the OXXO any less ridiculous, though. not yet.

It has been a wonderfully busy week. I am learning a new language. Malcolm has a rad new tee shirt site. We are planning a wedding. And I might venture a trip on a bus today or tomorrow, but probably tomorrow. I just found the apostrophe! All will be well. Well, I am, ahem - I'm - off to the library. on foot. for now.

please note: I'll post some pictures later this evening when I'm home. after espagetti but before La Ley Y El Orden.

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Posted by Jillian at 11:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Exhibit A: I'd like to introduce you to Bubu Lubu, quite possibly the greatest candy ever produced in the history of the entire world. Exaggeration? Hyperbole? Heavens no. Picture, if you will, twelve individually wrapped fun-sized bars. Each, a magical fusion of strawberry jelly candy, resting comfortably on a pillow of fluffy marshmallow, and then lovingly cloaked in delicious milk chocolate. Hammocks, honey, and Panama hats are good exports, but Mexico is blowing it by not shipping these candy bars to the rest of the free world. Here is how they fit into my day:

12:00 PM: Working.
1:00 PM: Bubu Lubu time!
1:01 PM: Bubu Lubu time!
1:02 PM: Resume work.

This takes me right up to around 8:00 or 9:00 PM, which is when we switch to another marvelous Mexican food item...

Exhibit B: The label reads "Maguey-Azo," but it is unclear whether this is a brand name, a hint about the potential ingredients, or just good advice, but this bottle of booze is a special animal. Costing about 50 cents USD per pint, this potent potable is a weak-tea brown, and features a hunk of fermented cactus at the bottom of the plastic, hand-bottled container. About 70 proof and surprisingly quaffable, Jillian found this little Mexican gem being sold out of the back of someone's house, which may or may not have also been a convenience store. While we were concerned about its drinkability vis-a-vis "seeing magical dragon hallucinations," we are brave, intrepid warriors who will try anything once. Turned out all we got was drunk. But what a value! I want a 55 gallon rusty drum of it in my kitchen!

Be sure to tune in next week for the next exciting installment of "New Food Monday" (assuming anyone likes this idea...it might need a catchier name). As you can see, it's not all roadside tacos and 27 different varieties of prepackaged mole sauce in these parts. And it's not intestinal cramp central, either. Don't be afraid! Try everything. Live well!

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Posted by Malcolm at 06:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

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Posted by Malcolm at 10:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Another big day in Mexico, as we officially put an offer in on a house. We have mentioned it before...it is the place in San Crisanto, on a beautiful beach, surrounded by nothing but banana plantations and, down the road a piece in Telchac, a few roadside food stands and a shabby internet cafe. San Crisanto is about 20 minutes from Progreso, where we will go for our grocery shopping, and about 45 minutes from Merida, where we are now.

Back-left corner, carport.

I am giddy. Three weeks ago, we were sitting in my parents' house in Florida, unsure of how successful, if at all, this whole thing was going to be. Inside of three weeks, we not only fell in love with the country, but then rented a place to live, sorted out our immigration problems, and now, boom, are buying a house. It carries with it not just the satisfaction of seeing a year's worth of planning actually work, but also the thrilling prospect of being homeowners for the first time. Tear down that wall! Build that deck! Get rid of these appliances! It is exciting as all hell anywhere you do it...getting to do it in the tropics at 28 is even more exciting.

View from front deck.

So, here's a first look. I will probably be extending the deck, adding a pool parallel to the beach, and possibly a second story. And of course, there is a TON of work to be done on the interior. Not to mention the amount of nonsense that has to happen between making an offer and getting the title...but we are basically offering the asking price, so it looks like all systems are go. More news as things develop. Wish us luck!

Overall view, as seen from beach.

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Posted by Malcolm at 08:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

For days I´ve been seeing blond men in coveralls and women in bonnets around town. I had a feeling they were Mennonites! and the intetrnet has confirmed my suspicion. Though they mostly settled near Chihuaha http://www.maps-of-mexico.com/ in the 1920´s when concurrently Manitoba, Canada (those benign persecutors) started to impinge on their rights and William Randolph Hearst was expelled and left some tasty land up for grabs, some are here! selling their farm-type stuff in Merida

Further investigation is necessary, but so far I know this much: they make illegal, i.e., unpasteurized cheese; traditionally speak Plautdietsh - low German. Fast Fact: Homer Groening, the father of Matt Groening (creator of The Simpsons), spoke Plautdietsch as a child in Saskatchewan in the 1920s, but his son Matt never learned the language; and may have emigrated to the Yucatan from Belize in about 1958.

Curiouser and Curiouser, this place...

Hey kids! Take this quiz: :http://warwickriver.va.us.mennonite.net/menno-quiz.htm

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Posted by Jillian at 02:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

notes and photos from 09.04.06

observations while sitting in movie theater square
...sweet tomato sauce mixed with brown filter cigarette smell on the sunny end of a shady bench. Everyone is staring. because I´m ugly, gorgeous, conspicuous, paranoid? Am I paranoid because they are staring? They are, aren´t they. The sky is a blue I cannot describe - like a Technicolor screen refracting some as yet unseen ocean. The people a red-hued brown, like molasses spread over red velvet. Girls in giggle fits, arms linked, a limping beggar I deny change for no reason I can think of, the others desert me for their bus(ses?). I am outside the porous bulwark of language. I must get up from this flaneur´s bench and find the mercado and buy fruits. ¿Donde puedo comprar frutas? is that right? don´t know. must go. vamanos.

I have done it! The first person ever to buy rosemary (romero!) from a (beautiful) old Mayan in a market. I totally dominate. She wraps it in newspaper, along with another bunch of herbs, maybe basil/maybe mint, who can know. Everyone is obviously looking at me because I am the coolest gringa in Merida history. I also buy the best damn pineapple I have ever tasted. I carry it through the streets in its pink, plastic bag. I am a Visigoth; I am Vlad the Impaler. It is such a completely pleasing experience. Maybe the one one´s most anticipated. shit. I forget to haggle. I impishly smile down each narrow aisle. Parrots in wooden cages, shiny melon flesh in cellophane, onions, unknowns, spices. Surprise: the floor is covered in cigarette butts and the whole place smells like chicken guts!

09.05.06

One year ago tonight, in the lovely lobby of the Algonquin Hotel, Malcolm asked me and I said ¨yes¨. I also cried and drank too much champagne. We are going to be married. It took a while for that to seem correct. Are we grown ups enough? Is this a totally bizarre thing to do, this marriage. What a gand year. I adore being engaged to this man.

...(Mariachi is a variation of the French word "mariage" - meaning wedding or marriage.)...

And now I can see it all so clearly , this marriage, this wedding. And I think it will all be gorgeous. And while the proposal was a totally enchanting and romantic fulllfilment of our first week´s promise to meet five years hence, the daily fullfillment of the covenant we made one year ago is so much more real, so much more right. To our future...

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Posted by Jillian at 07:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

We spent today exploring the ruins at Chichen Itza. This is going to be mostly a photo entry, because I'm not sure how much I can really add to the discussion of a stunningly advanced 1200-year-old Mayan ruin site that contains, to this day, a working calendar, observatory, basketball court, and numerous sacrificial altars. There are areas sheltered from the sun where you can still see the original PAINT and dyes that once made all of these structures vibrantly colorful, and Mayan babies tucked in corners working quietly on embroidery.

El Castillo.

Skulls carved into the base of a sacrificial altar.

North face.

Self-portrait.

Jillian is too cool for the Temple of the Warriors.

Jillian chased this iguana. I'm surprised it didn't steal her wallet.

Self-portrait numero dos.

Must...keep...walls...apart!

Tuff.

I should really host a children's travel show. Because I look like a muppet.

Though we couldn't climb the steps of El Castillo, the large pyramid, it was still an incredible experience. I guess some dummy fell down the steps and died last February, so she has ruined it for the rest of us. Overall, though, Chichen Itza was fascinating, humbling, and remarkable, and I suggest you vote for it to become one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, which will be decided in 2007.

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Posted by Malcolm at 06:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

1. Axl´s mellifluous Patience streaming into my carrel soothes my troubled soul and ameliortes any lingerering grouchiness

2. I have no good reason for said grouchiness, and if I even began to tell you why I have been such a cranky pants this morning you would say that I am petulant and ungrateful, and you would be right.

3. It is another beautiful day in Merida; the clouds here are palpable.

4. I bought a braided bracelet from a Mayan girl for 10 pesos and wanted to tell her how I used to make friendship bracelets in the schoolyard with my friends but didn´t think she would understand/care.

5. My time here is limited and I´m done with you.

Follow-up quiz:

Are there more or less than five (5) facts listed above?

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Posted by Jillian at 04:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)